Fallen From Grace
by 10EBRIS
Summary: Gilbert is a pure empath, a rarity known as humanity's 'Guardian Angel'. He's made to solve crime, untouchable by man... Until he attracts the attention of a very real fallen angel, who dares to touch the untouchable, takes a dangerous interest and begins killing the pieces on Gilbert's chess-board of life, manipulating him to high-heaven. But surely there's depth to this motive?
1. Chapter 1

Alright, perhaps I'm a little bit mental for what I'm about to write. Either way, I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it does what it's supposed to, if you have managed to work that out already. ;) - Gabriel

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Prologue

 _It all kicked off when Gilbert's mind began to think about things differently, and his eyes began to see the world in a different light (or rather, a different level of darkness). Empathy was a gift that he had been born with, but a gift that he had never really fully had the time to nurture and bring up. It only really began to matter when he joined the task force in the police department's HQ, and it really clicked into place when he began work as a detective._

 _Gilbert's mind was sharper, faster, stronger and harder to break through than most, and with his intelligent empathy? As a pure empath, psychologists craved to analyse him, to try to understand him, however, nobody - not even the greatest, most clever scientist on the planet - could even begin to solve him, or the way his mind worked._

 _No one could survive a day in Gilbert's mind._

 _Scratch that; nobody would (could) survive a **minute** in his mind. _

_When he was brought to the scene of a bloody murder, he was brought there blindfolded, unable to see anything on the way there, as it would hinder his thoughts - which in time would be solely focused on the crime scene. When the blindfold was taken off, he would be left alone in the room to work his magic._

 _He would enter the mind of the killer, and understand horrifically how everything happened, what happened, when it happened, and even why it happened. All of these factors would eventually lead him to who caused the murder, and he would hunt them down, putting them behind bars._

 _Gilbert was Germany's Guardian Angel, though his face was never revealed to the media to credit for his success. His younger brother unwittingly kept him hidden from view, and rightly so. Gilbert used Ludwig as his mask._

 _For years, Gilbert went to various psychologists, and they all attempted to extract the same information from him. Gilbert was too smart for them. He wouldn't have any of it._

 _Pure empathy, and also pure reluctance to conform, to be independent in his own strategy and thinking. His mind was so perfectly composed for solving crime that it may as well have been decorated with a pretty little bow, with a label, certificate and everything._

 _However, in time, the Angel and his layers of darkness attracted the attention of something much more dangerous, and much, much darker: a real angel. A real one, that had been damned and had fallen from grace, and landed himself in what was perhaps one of the most powerful positions on Gilbert's life's chess board._

 _This real angel was angry, silent, malevolent, and yet somehow vaguely happy and innocent._

 _A real threat, but one that was often swept under the carpet, or - at least - not kept a very close eye on._


	2. Chapter 2

1

 _"Death is the natural state of all things,"_ Gilbert muttered to himself, frozen to the ground, _"Everything eventually withers and dies, so why not preserve it while it is young, fresh and beautiful?"_ He began to move towards the body strung up in front of him, mounted upon the tree, covered with white feathers. The skin was sticky with blood, the fine, silken hairs of each feather sticking to each other and becoming matted, messily done.

It was messily composed, but the message that reached Gilbert was strikingly beautiful, yet horrific as he understood the culprit.

 _"Death ascends in steps to paradise, those trapped on the staircase endlessly shifting over each step, reluctantly walking forwards, though as elegantly as a ballet dancer. They hold an elegance that they could never once contain before, though will never get the chance to recapture again. Ever."_

Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment, and inhaled the air deeply. When he opened his eyes, he found that his cheek was resting against the corpse's pale, still supple chest. He hadn't been dead for very long. The white haired man looked up at the boy's face, and immediately, he recognised it. His heart sank.

 _Poor, little Raivis Galante. You had so much to live for._

The Prussian scrutinised the blood-sodden, golden curls and the baby-blue eyes. Eye. Only one was open.

 _This is no time to be sentimental, Gilbert. Get on with your job._

He breathed deeply and walked around the tree.

" _I took only one of the purest little flowers in the garden,"_

He squeezed Raivis' cold, lifeless hand,

" _And I made him into an elevated form. He is a masterpiece, now, he deserved to be made richer."_

Gilbert's eyes became distant, seeing off into some other, ethereal, time-travelling world.

"He wants to create something beautiful... but this murder was composed in a way that would typically appeal to _me_. This was aimed at _me_ in particular. A cry for my attention..."

Gilbert jolted terribly when he felt a hand fall upon his shoulder. He snapped back to reality and wheeled around sharply.

"I think that's enough, now, Gil." His brother's voice said firmly, a look of concern written across his chiselled features.

Ludwig looked very similar to Gilbert, the only differences being complexion and height. Other than that, they shared the same eyes, nose, mouth... Gilbert scratched the feather-white stubble at his jaw, more of a five o'clock highlight than a five o'clock shadow. He nodded briefly, his lavender-rose eyes meeting Ludwig's forget-me-not blue ones. Gilbert's eyes were like frosted roses, the colours shifting languidly. Humanity's Guardian Angel.

Stoic Ludwig's suddenly worried face caught Gilbert a little off-guard. It wasn't the normal sort of worried. It wasn't the _Ludwig_ sort of worried. It ran deeper than what Gilbert was capable of seeing into. He couldn't look into Ludwig, of all people, and so he spared him the pain of being analysed. Ludwig wouldn't like to be analysed, just like Gilbert.

Still, as Ludwig's brow furrowed, Gilbert caught sight of each individual hair, each fleck of darker, cerulean blue in his brother's cobalt eyes, and the black lashes that surrounded them. He noticed the way they darted around, indicating the movement of thoughts in his brain.

Gilbert could only resist the temptation to analyse. He played it off well with Ludwig.

The blond would feel pressured to listen to Gilbert if he knew that the older sibling wanted to profile him.

Ludwig was a tall man, with a very strong presence, commanding and firm, though gentle and benevolent at the same time. He was more angelic than Gilbert was, in his own honest opinion. His little brother had been perfect to him, standing up for his big brother and asking for nothing in return.

 _He didn't know what would become of him if they were ever to be separated._

Ludwig was Gilbert's police officer, and Gilbert was Ludwig's detective. They _couldn't_ be separated.

"Why do you look so worried all of a sudden?" Gilbert asked, loudly. Ludwig jolted just as Gilbert had moments before, unused to such loud speech after confronting such a deathly quiet scene.

Nonetheless, Ludwig pulled himself together and recomposed his dignity - just like Gilbert does.

"We'll talk about this in the Task Force Headquarters," He said, and then paused, "Are you sure that this murder was aimed at you specifically? How can you tell?"

Gilbert's life before he was a detective flashed before his eyes, and absently, he murmured:

"Because before they locked me up - before I was a detective - this was exactly my style. It's as though he's paying homage to my previous works, showing me that he's done his research."

The younger sibling shuddered violently.

"Whoever this murderer is," The white-haired one continued, "He's interested and provoked by me. Possibly even obsessed with the way I work, and it's not surprising considering how many people are after my brains." Gilbert stopped, and cocked his head to one side.

Ludwig became uneasy.

"What?" The blond said slowly.

"He's..."

"Yes?"

"He's older than me, larger. He has to be; he's watched me develop. Nobody younger than me could be capable of knowing this much without being there to watch it themselves. I remember being diagnosed with short term memory loss after coming into the hospital, and... _God damn it,_ I can't remember the people who I stuck around with. I'm sure that there was a blond haired man and a brunette, with green eyes." Gilbert stopped again, and Ludwig became even more unnerved.

Gilbert turned from the body slowly, and faced Ludwig, directly.

"If my deductions are correct, then our murderer was in the hospital with me at the time I was admitted. For the life of me, I can't remember who he was, his face, or anything that happened, but we must have talked a few times. How else would this man have possibly figured out my style? The media can't get at me."

"So, is our next investigation going to be held in the mental ward?"

"I believe so." Gilbert paused, drawing in a breath, his mouth open, as if he wanted to say something, "Ludwig? I don't like this."

The younger German quirked an eyebrow.

"How so? You seemed rather elated about this whole ordeal a minute ago."

"Yes, but there is a possibility that this murderer found out everything he wanted to about me while I was in the hospital. While I was _recovering from short term memory loss._ I may have said things that I shouldn't have, and I may have unwittingly told him things that had gone on recently that I no longer remember. If that is so, there's a possibility that our killer knows more about me that _myself."_

Ludwig also turned to face Gilbert.

"I think you're getting carried away with it, on a tangent."

"I think not, Ludwig. I'm serious; this would make perfect sense. We're investigating the mental ward as soon as possible."

/~/~/~/~/~/

The ride back to the HQ was a long one. From being out in the cold, in the middle of the forest at three on a Friday morning, Gilbert's hands were like blocks of ice, blood drying on his skin, and flaking slightly. The patch of blood from where he placed his head against the corpse's chest was still there, too tired and groggy to clean it off himself, and Ludwig keeping his distance, knowing very well how much Gilbert valued his own personal space.

 _Even if Gilbert liked to invade everyone else's personal space._

Gilbert smelled awful. As he sat heavily in Ludwig's car - a sleek, black Audi - he caught a whiff of himself: there was the metallic scent of iron, the blood on his face, and the strong smell of sweat, where Gilbert had rushed to the scene, and strained himself slightly. His mind had really gone off on one; that was why Ludwig put an end to it before Gilbert collapsed.

It had happened before.

When uncovering a murderer, the images that were conjured up in his mind were so horrific and intense that he fainted, out cold on the floor. It was one of his most embarrassing experiences, made even more embarrassing when he saw who had lifted him off the ground and onto a couch: Roderich Edelstein. Gilbert's immediate thoughts had been something along the lines of, ' _how in holy hell did he lift me?_ ' however, it soon came to his attention that he shouldn't be as surprised as he was - Roderich was also a police officer, and a good one, too. It should only be natural that he would be strong. Still, his refined nature and the way he looked (lanky and bespectacled) made Gilbert go backwards over his judgement.

Surprisingly (but then again, not so surprisingly), Gilbert would have thought that Roderich's former-other-half-friend-thing - _also known as Liz_ \- would be more capable of lifting him up. He'd bargained in his head over who he thought was stronger: the man-hunter bitch, or mummy's boy?

His logic told him that when he saw Posh Totty leaning over him rather than the She-Hulk, Roderich was stronger.

Gilbert had gotten many things wrong about Roderich as far as first impressions went. The brown-haired, fair-faced Austrian looked like a little ball of priss that could never do a single evil deed, but he was far from that. While he _was_ the boss' son, and while he _could_ be a bit naive, Roderich was quite the potty mouth, and sarcastically funny to anyone who could solve him. He was quiet, and usually had his nose stuck in some book, or his face virtually glued to a computer screen with the rim of a teacup suctioned to his mouth. Sometimes, he was very quiet, and _sometimes, just sometimes,_ people got annoyed at Roderich for repeating things they may have said.

 _"What are you, a parrot?"_ Vash had snapped at him, to which Roderich had quickly and silently replied,

" _Squawk."_

And what Gilbert found funny about this was that Vash didn't know any better as to what Roderich was doing before he decided to bite. Roderich's 'copying' - the sort of thing someone like Vash would take as Roderich looking for his attention - was actually just the Austrian man ripping the absolute _piss_ out of the Swiss man and the stupid things he could come out with, and Vash just wasn't realising it. Gilbert knew from observing Roderich that the brunette thought that the blond was an idiot. Roderich thought that a lot of people were idiots.

In this way, Gilbert liked Roderich, but he just didn't like Roderich when he was on the receiving end of his sarcasm and mind games. Roderich could be nasty, given the chance. Sneaky, sly and very cunning. Roderich was like a snake, but all for a good cause. If the brunette wasn't so lawful and _police_ -orientated, Gilbert would be very heavily suspicious of him. Caught at a crime scene, Gilbert would arrest Roderich immediately, even if he had to be picked out of a crowd. If it was a twisted game of ' _Where's Wally?'_ with a possible murderer, the Prussian would drag him out instantly, without a second guess.

 _Gilbert knew that Roderich was too smart to murder anyone, though._ _Roderich was smarter than he was._

"Gilbert. You stink." Ludwig said bluntly, short and to the point. Not as sweet as Gilbert would have liked.

"I know. Do you have any spray?"

"Clean your face with the wet-wipes in the dash, and then get the aerosol out of my satchel in the back seat. There's also a change of clothes. I always come prepared." Ludwig said proudly.

Gilbert did as he was told, coming back to the front seat after about ten minutes, cleaner than he had been in that stinking blue coat and black shirt. Even though Ludwig's clothes were a little on the large side, Gilbert found himself quite comfortable.

Then again, anything was comfortable to Gilbert, having just done what he did. Putting his face against a corpse, re-enacting the murder - in the snow, too.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, Gilbert keening on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

"I want coffee." He stated.

"Wait, Gilbert."

"Mmph."

"I haven't got any coffee in the car."

" _I came prepared,_ you said."

From the corner of his eye, Ludwig cast his older brother a steely, frosted over glance.

"Don't start. It's not even six o'clock, yet."

Gilbert sulked a little bit, craving the coffee back at HQ. He'd raid the vending machines when he got there. His thoughts were drawn back to Roderich, and his 07:30 rule: _Be prepared for a shit storm if you speak to me before half past seven. There is a chance that any time before this specific time, I have not consumed my morning coffee, and I will fuck shit up. Your risk, not mine._

Inwardly, the red-eyed man scoffed - Roderich reminded him of Ludwig's friend's brother ( _random?),_ Lovino. Only without the Italian accent, and much more tea and music-loving. Attitude-wise, while Roderich was insanely clever, he had the same snarkiness as Lovino, and the same love of swear-words. Roderich could come out with swearword combinations that could make even _Gilbert_ laugh or cringe. The brunette could drop a lot of 'C-Bombs', accompanied by double the amount of 'F-Bombs'.

Soon enough, the Audi pulled left into the parking lot, and up the ramps to the middle floor. As soon as Ludwig was done perfecting his parking, Gilbert shot out of the car and into the building, powered solely by the thought of drinking up a nice, big coffee.


End file.
